


The Arc of Conflict, Saga 16: A Reason to Live, a Reason to Die

by bzarcher, solarbird



Series: Of Gods and Monsters [106]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Assassination, Assassination Attempt(s), Assassination Plot(s), Betrayal, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Deadlock Gang, Deadlock Jesse McCree, Distrust, F/F, Family, Gen, Lesbian Character, M/M, Negotiations, Oasis (Overwatch), Omnic Crisis, Polyamorous Character, Post-Talon, Post-Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Russia, Soldier Enhancement Program, Talon Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Talon Emly (Overwatch), Talon Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Talon Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Trauma, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23762128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbird/pseuds/solarbird
Summary: Katya Volskaya's government in Russia has destroyed the omnium Koschei, and held their own against the Gods of Oasis. With no point to additional fighting, the overt war has paused. But covertly, the conflict carries on. The gods, after all, still have a plan, and will do what is needed - one way, or another.Jesse McCree has a plan to collect millions of Euros from either Russia or Oasis in exchange for the 'hidden jewels' of the SEP - or so he convinces the Deadlock Gang. But he's not lying when he says he has other fish to fry too - just about when and how he intends to fry them.Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflictis a continuance ofThe Arc of Ascension,The Arc of Creation, andThe Armourer and the Living Weapon. To follow the story as it appears,please subscribe to the series.
Relationships: Emily/Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Emily/Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Emily/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Fareeha "Pharah" Amari & Moira O'Deorain, Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Jesse McCree/Genji Shimada, Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Moira O'Deorain & Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Moira O'Deorain/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Series: Of Gods and Monsters [106]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024
Comments: 35
Kudos: 43





	1. A Fistfull of Euros

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this out, but, well, it certainly has been 2020, hasn't it. But I'm glad I'm able to deliver something substantial to make up for the wait. ^_^
> 
> dirtyclaws has launched [a public fan-run _Of Gods and Monsters_ discord server](https://discord.gg/pDZMpVT) and invites everyone to come join it. ^_^

"The plan," Jesse said, "is very simple. A sale of what they think is the right merchandise to the right customer."

Ashe frowned, but nodded, as Jesse opened a sizable briefcase and rotated it to face her, Bob, and the rest of the gang.

"This here's a set of documents and data storage drives, all vintage. The documents are real, so don't touch. They're all old Army paper from the first Omnic War, from back when humanity was losin' pretty bad."

Ashe glanced down at the paper documents, saw the Soldier Enhancement Programme logo, and looked back up.

"Where th' hell'd you get these, Jesse?"

"White Sands Missile Base, mostly. Or what's left of it."

"Somethin' survived up there? For real? The Omnics pretty much pounded that whole place into sand."

She reached forward, and Jesse closed the briefcase before she could get too close.

"Like I said, no touchin', darlin' - not 'til I know you're buyin' in. Don't want any biotraces what shouldn't be there."

"Fair enough," Ashe said, leaning back, and waving one hand. "Go on, then."

"It's supplemented with a few pieces I picked up along the way here - some paper, some hardware, a lot a'digital, on those vintage drives. They'll pass inspection - but there'll be a much bigger chunk that's encrypted."

"What's in that encrypted part? Garbage?"

"A mix. A lot of it's real - gotta make sure they have somethin' to taste. Most of it's just garbage they won't be able to break 'cause there ain't nothin' to break, just looks like there is."

He rotated the briefcase back to his side of the worn coffee table and reopened it. "But this is the big one. This is what'll sell it." He pulled out one drive in particular, armoured, and held it up for all to see.

"Bulky thing," Ashe said. "What is it?"

"Everything. Complete backup of the SEP programme - or, at least, the hardware it was stored on. One of only 10 ever built. Thousand-year storage, top level archive grade. In theory, at least."

"That sure as hell wasn't at White Sands."

"Nope," the cowboy agreed, "but it _could've_ been. There never was a good accountin', if you know what I mean. And I got my hands on one."

"A real one."

"Absolutely, positively, 100% real. And before you ask - I ain’t tellin' where I got it. What matters is that I did."

He put the drive down on the wooden tabletop, where everybody could see it, the key to the whole swindle.

"Where you got it..." Ashe mused for a moment. "That's why you need us, then. You can't be in front, 'cause somebody out there would connect the dots too easy. Gotta look like we done dug this up ourselves, not you."

"Y'always were a quick one, Ashe. Knew there was somethin' I liked about you."

Ashe nodded, leaning back on the overstuffed couch again, as Bob stood stoically behind her. "So we put this up for market, say we've got the SEP crown jewels..."

"Nope," Jesse shook his head. "Not quite. 'Cause we don't, and if we said we did nobody'd believe us anyway. Drive's mostly fulla trash, in fact. The hardware's real; the contents ain't nothin' but trash. But it's _encrypted_ trash, using military encryption we still can't break. So we sell it as what it looks like we got."

He leaned forward. "It's a simple story, hard t'get wrong, easy to believe. Y'all went up to White Sands on some info from a scavenger about some profitable military weapons - SAMs, maybe - what might be salvageable. They weren't there, but y'all found all these interestin' documents, and some files y'can read, and some files y'can't, but y'can read enough to get a pretty good idea what the rest must be about. And now you're putting 'em up for sale."

"Sounds small time," Ashe said, looking Jesse up and down. "Thought you said this was a _big_ scam."

"What if I told you I'm figurin' fifty million euros out of this thing? Less my finder's fee, of course. 25%."

"Fifty million...?!" She shook her head. "You serious?"

"Yup. Fifty mill."

She whistled, low, half air, half tone, before her glare snapped back up to the cowboy. "You get 10%. That's the usual an' you know it."

"I got some big expenses to cover, and more importantly, this is just one step along the way far as I’m concerned. I got bigger fish after this - but I need the capital to make it happen. 20%."

"Fifteen."

"Sold - if the whole gang's in. There's a whole mess of particulars to work out."

Ashe rolled her eyes. "I just bet there are..."

She leaned forward to get a closer look at the vintage military datapac before her gaze darted back up to Jesse's eyes. "Who in the hell is gonna bite for fifty million Euros on this?"

"Didn't you tell me, back in the old days - the scam isn't about the merchandise, it's about the _sucker?_ "

"Yeah," she said, thinking back. _It was good advice then, it's good advice now,_ she reminded herself. _Particularly if it's Jesse doin' the sellin'._

"Well, if I don't have just the suckers for you."

"Suckers," Ashe said, one corner of her mouth turning up into a little bit of a smile. _Somethin' else is still going on, but..._ "I do like the sound of that."

"Suckers," he grinned a predator's grin right back, "plural."

"A biddin' war."

He nodded, and she smiled like a razorblade.

"Now _that_ ," she said, "I _definitely_ like."

\-----

"Did you see what went up for sale?" M typed.

"I did," LEITER typed back. "Weird they didn't open it up to more bidders."

"Obviously, it's fake. We've accounted for all our physicals. Have you?"

"Yes."

"It's a good fake, though. Highly convincing - at least, from the images."

LEITER - Robyn - slumped a little. They didn't like having to type what they had to type next. They didn't want any of this to be happening, in fact, at all. But it wasn't up to them. Carefully managed useful assets shouldn't fall apart. Not at a moment like this. And yet... here they were.

They fortified themself a bit, and typed. "It's not fake."

A moment - a bit too long to be lag - of hesitation on the other end.

"What?!" came the reply.

"It's not fake. At least, we don't think it is."

"You just said you'd accounted for all of them."

"We have. That's how I know it's probably real."

"How the hell did you manage to let one of those out undestroyed?"

"We didn't. That's _how_ I know which one it probably is."

A longer hesitation this time, as M - LEITER imagined - thought through the various ramifications of that statement.

"Then... does that mean _we_ have a _very_ big problem?"

"Yes. It does. And we do."

Another pause, as Robyn waited for a reply.

"Any chance we can put a stop to it?" said the reply, when it finally came. "We cannot let this make the open market."

 _Good_ , they thought. _She agrees with me._

"Upper-ups have said no direct action. Nobody outside very limited circles knows it's real. Like you, most people think it's a counterfeit. But if we move... everyone knows it's not."

A moment passed. Robyn could almost see M - Neelashi - tapping on the little gap between keyboard and trackpad on her secured system as she thought.

"Ah."

Another moment. This time, no tapping. Her fingers would be hovering over the keyboard, thumb of her right hand hopping between fingertips in a row, like a counter, as she finalised her thoughts in words. Robyn always had the kind of mind for noticing small personal details - particularly when someone was weighing risks.

"Well, then," M finally typed, " _Someone_ clearly needs to take care of this problem on our behalf."

"Agreed - and glad you see it that way too, M. Personally, I think it should be the one who most likely let this problem happen, and that we should make that clear as possible as quickly as possible."

"I suppose we must. I'm not looking forward to _that_ call."

"Neither am I."

"Do you want to be the good cop, or shall I?"

Robyn thought it over for just a moment, already pretty sure of the answer, but considering switching it around anyway. "I think you'd better do it. He's way more afraid of you."

A short pause.

"Oddly," typed M, "I rather appreciate that."

LEITER grinned.

"Unsurprisingly - I know."


	2. Mark

"This is _highly_ unexpected," Angela said, reading over the notice Moria had forwarded her. "But why do we need it?"

"Well, obviously, we don't," Moira replied. "Half of it was the worst sort of hackwork, and the other half we've left so far behind it barely has historical value. But..."

"But we should keep it from other hands," Fareeha said, immediately grasping the stragetic importance. "I agree with Moira. We should participate, and if at all possible, acquire the data."

"If it's even valid!" Angela protested. "They're asking a minimum of ten million Euros for a stack of old paper and electronic archives, only one of which even looks important."

She frowned, looking at the relevant picture, a device she did in fact recognise, and may well have held in her hand. "I thought all of these datapacs were accounted for, or confirmed destroyed."

"Apparently not all," Moira sighed. "A shame, really. They should've been incinerated."

"I wholeheartedly agree," Angela said. "Keeping our surviving Russian together - even with all your experience helping Reyes - has been quite the adventure. At least we've learned some things from it."

"And having to do that is _why_ we need to win this... so-called auction... these Deadlock bandits have set up," Moira insisted. "The last thing we need is Katya Volskaya turning out more poor bastards like him."

Angela sighed, thinking of the poor man in the ICU who just kept starting to dissolve every few days, no matter what they did.

"Very well. Perhaps. I can't imagine it's real, though, and even if it is, the project..."

Something in the back of her mind did a doubletake, and she closed her eyes, thinking back, back, to before she was reborn.

"Oh," she said. " _Oh._ "

"What, dear?" asked Moira.

"I know that look," Fareeha said. "She's remembered something."

"I have. Moira, how much access did you have to those documents, back in Blackwatch?"

"I... presume the same as you did."

"The ancillary projects."

Moira looked confused. "What do you mean - the weapons, the targeting visor? What else was there? Honestly, I only ever paid attention to the biologi..." She gasped, a little, as a twig of memory grabbed at the back of _her_ mind, and she grabbed it, pulling at it until it came free.

"Oh no," she whispered.

"I forgot, too," Angela said. "It's been so long. But yes. If there's any chance it's real... we _must_ have it."

"Would either of you care to explain what just changed?" Fareeha asked her wife, and her wife's wife.

"There was more to the SEP," said Moira, "than just the SEP. Almost no one knows that, and we need to keep it that way."

"What else was there?"

Moira glanced to Angela, and back to Fareeha. "Angela knows more than I..."

"It was a side project, really," Angela explained. "A new type of active cloaking they'd hoped to provide to all the enhanced soldiers. They were also developing their special weapons, and other assistance devices. One project involved bending light around the soldiers' bodies, from all angles, at once, rendering them effectively invisible."

"At least," Moira said, "that's what they thought they were doing - until they realised they'd found only the small tip of a very large iceberg. Then it became another, much larger project entirely."

Fareeha thought it out, came to a conclusion, and blinked in shock.

"...the Slipstream?! The Slipstream was part of _SEP?!_ "

"Originally," Moira confirmed, "Yes."

"And," Angela continued, "there might be just enough crumbs in that datapack for someone else to start putting the pieces back together. We can't have that!"

"No," Fareeha agreed, "we cannot."

\-----

"He did not steal it from me!"

Jack Morrison slammed his fist down on his desk, hard enough to dent it, just a little.

"Then how the heck did they get it, Jack?!" LEITER asked the question relatively nicely, being, after all, good cop. "I really want to believe you. But we need to know how they got it!"

"I can't say the situation looks good for you," M reiterated. "Russian agents showing up with the same process used on you and Reyes, and then, not very long after, one of your top lieutenants goes off on his own, followed shortly by the unaccounted-for Overwatch SEP archive showing up on the open market..."

She gave him a glare that even across telepresence could still freeze lava.

"It looks very much like an organisation - and a commander - _completely_ out of control."

Jack sat back down, reigning in his frustration and anger.

"I know what it looks like. You're not wrong there. But that's not what's happening."

"What would Overwatch's cut be, Jack?" M asked. "I'm not cynical enough to think you'd do this for your own benefit, but several million Euros certainly wouldn't hurt Overwatch's budget."

"M, please tell me you aren't alleging..."

"I most certainly am not. But I assure you, my superiors will - or more correctly, already are. If we can't get some answers, they are going to start asking much harder questions, very, very soon."

"I accept that," Morrison agreed, remembering all the things he had hated about this job. "And I appreciate the warning. But I don't have any answers to give you. Not yet. I haven't had control over that datapac in years - not since Geneva, where it was stored."

He slumped a little, leaning forward on his elbows. "As far as I knew, it went down with the central archive complex. I'd presumed it had been destroyed, like everything else."

"So had we, Jack," LEITER replied. "But it wasn't found in the rubble - it's been the last device unaccounted for. Until a couple of days ago, at least. And now, here it is, out in the open, with your lieutenant's old gang, and they're running an auction. How's _that_ for a coincidence?"

"I just..."

Jack stared at his desk. _How the hell could this have happened?_ he wondered.

"If they learn - or already know - how to access the _actual_ storage on the device, Morrison, there will be absolute hell to pay on three continents. We can't let that happen," M stressed. "I most certainly won't."

"I haven't had it since Geneva," Morrison repeated, slowly. "I haven't even thought about it since Geneva. And again, no, I did not cooperate with the Russians. I did not help them set up that programme. Not intentionally." He shook his head, slowly, a few times. "They must've run every kind of scan imaginable on me whenever we had meetings with Volskaya - at least, that's my best guess. Athena agrees."

"Affirmative, Commander," Athena added, spontaneously. "I have no evidence of your either direct or indirect intentional cooperation with Russian authorities on this matter, and their results could in part be the result of samples taken from you without your knowledge."

"Thanks, Athena," LEITER replied.

"Athena's word is not enough," M said, interrupting. "Not for the upper echelons. You'll have to do better. _Particularly_ on the datapac."

She glared at something, off screen. "I have to move on to another meeting. Come up with a better answer, Jack. Get me an explanation someone who doesn't like you might believe, and do it soon. M, out."

LEITER sighed as M's image dropped from the meeting. "I have to go too, Jack. Look. For what it's worth, I believe you, okay? She does too, I think, but... you know how it is."

"All too well."

"Can I offer you a piece of advice?"

"Yeah," Morrison replied. "Please."

"I don't care what you've got him doing, I don't care how important it is - pull your guy back in. Get _him_ saying what he's been up to, show that he's not behind this, I think that would help. And if he is involved... for the love of Christ, man, shut him down. And recover that datapac!"

"Thanks, L," Morrison replied.

"We're in a bad spot, Jack. All of us are, now. We've both been backing you, and if this explodes..."

"God, I know."

"Sorry, but... anyway, good luck. LEITER out."

The second signal dropped, and Morrison leaned back in his chair.

"Any luck tracking down McCree?" he asked the air. "Anything at all?"

"I'm sorry, Commander. The decomputerised zone is one of the few places I cannot go. All I have is satellite, and limited resolution at that."

"Well, keep trying. If you get anything - anything at all, day or night, awake or asleep, on the commode, I don't care. Patch me directly in."

"Yes, Commander."

Athena waited an appropriate moment.

"For whatever it is worth, I think they both believed you."

_The one time they probably shouldn't_ , Morrison couldn't quite stop himself from thinking.

"I tracked their visible subreactions closely, and my confidence is reasonably high."

"Thank you, Athena," Morrison said, before bringing up a live satellite pass of the Deadlock territories. "Privacy mode until my next meeting, please. I need to think."

"Certainly, Commander. I will resume monitoring in 20 minutes."

"Whatever the hell you've got up your sleeve, Jesse," Jack whispered to no one at all, "it had better be good."


	3. Approach

"Well, that's the trick, y'see."

Moira frowned at the tall white-haired woman she'd been forced to deal with. Bidding wasn't over yet, but had been paused at 45 million Euros, as both Oasis and an unnamed second agent - the Russians, she was sure - had decided that at these prices, they needed direct examination of the assets.

"We're not exactly on th' best of terms with the Federal government."

"I wasn't aware you _had_ an effective Federal government. At least, not where you operate. Isn't that how you got access to the former White Sands Missile Base?"

"That's true, we don't," Ashe nodded, over comms. "We're pretty much in charge 'round here. But gettin' overseas - that's another trick entirely. Y'all need t'come visit if you want an inspection. For what it's worth, we'd be happy to have you."

"It would seem unwise for both bidders to be present at the same time," Moira replied, and felt satisfied to see Ashe's curt nod in response. "But it would not be of great difficulty to arrange such an inspection. I would, of course, insist on bringing personal protection."

"Wouldn't dream of anything different. The other bidders said the same thing, and I said the same back to them. But we need to keep it intimate, if you know what I mean. We have goods to protect - leastways, not 'til they ain't ours no more."

"Of course. In my case, a single bodyguard would be adequate."

"You're welcome to bring two or three, we wouldn't want anybody t'feel uncomfortable."

"The one, I assure you, will be adequate. When can we arrange the visit?"

"At your convenience - the other bidder will be arriving on Thursday - our Thursday - so..."

"My bodyguard and I could be at your location in approximately fifteen minutes."

Ashe looked taken aback by that, and looked briefly off-screen, to whom Ashe could not tell. "That's... a mite quick, we didn't know y'all were in the neighbourhood."

"We're not. But that sort of travel time consideration isn't a factor for us."

"I see. Well. If y'wouldn't mind giving us 'til... tomorrow, at noon. Our time. 19 hours from now."

"That would be perfectly adequate. I imagine you'd hardly want us teleporting into your 'hideout,' so... where would you prefer to meet?" She paused a moment, as if looking at a map. "I might suggest, given where you are, that we meet at the Panorama Diner on Route 66 - it's well within your territory of control, I understand - and proceed conventionally from there."

Ashe gazed at her hard through the screen, eyes narrowed, trying not to let her surprise show, and mostly pulling it off. "That'll do just fine. Yourself, and your bodyguard. No copyin' tools. No computers. Visual and tactile inspection only, you got that?"

"Of course. If that's all settled, my bodyguard and I will see you tomorrow, at the appointed time and place."

"No other arrangements?" Ashe asked. "Just like that?"

"Is there anything else to arrange? It is, after all, just an inspection - not a sale. We will not be bringing payment."

Ashe shook her head. "Guess not, then. See you tomorrow, at the diner, at noon."

"Delightful. I look forward to seeing you then."

The signal cut, and Lena grinned. "Well, that oughta shake 'em up a bit."

Danielle nodded, showing her approval. "Casual intimidation works well with her sort of personality. I presume I will be at range?"

"Of course," Moira nodded. "Emily, you'll be scouting for Danielle. But take no action without cause."

"Aw." she said, putting on a big pout before breaking up in giggles.

"Still bothers me that this is Deadlock," Lena said, not for the first time. "Bothers me a lot."

"It bothers me, as well," Moira agreed. "The 'coincidence' here strikes me as too unlikely to be actually coincidental. I can't not worry that Jesse McCree might be involved on some level."

"I can't hack where there's no hardware," Sombra grumbled. "Or I'd tell you. Sure you don't want me around?"

"We can't risk this going badly, dear," Moira replied. "There is some danger, obviously, but we can't have this material getting into anyone else's possession. We have to take the chance."

She looked at her daughter and her wives, and smiled.

"But I couldn't be in better hands, now, could I?"

Lena and Emily grinned, while Danielle just looked smug.

"Ever been to the American Southwest before, Lena?" Emily asked. "It's beautiful country. I'm excited even if I don't get to shoot anybody!"

"No! You have, then?"

"Yeh! Once! On a mission, before..." She turned and looked at Danielle. "Even before _you!_ Oh, I can take _both_ of you around! Can we sightsee a bit after, Auntie? Please?"

"I..." Moira shook her head. "No. I'm sorry."

"But..."

Lena shook her head, agreeing with her mum, and took Emily's hand. "Sorry, luv. Not with Russia so close to boiling over. Best to get in, check the goods, get right back out."

"I agree," Danielle added, "but she is right - it is lovely. We can visit again, as tourists, once all this has finally shaken itself out."

"Promise?" Emily asked.

"Absolutely, ma chérie."

"Eeeeeee!" Emily said, with a wide grin. "I can't wait!"

\-----

The display collapsed down to standby and Ashe whirled on Jesse, the rest of the gang nervous, glancing about. "What the _hell_ was that?!"

"What was what?" Jesse asked, apparently calm and relaxed.

"How the hell did they know about the diner?!" She stood and marched on the cowboy, glowering over him, hand on the stock of her repeater.

"After the train job you pulled last year? 'Course she knows about the diner. Don't exactly take a super-brained genius to figure that one out. She guessed, and you bit."

She had to admit - to herself, anyway - that he had a point.

"...maybe. Maybe. There's still somethin' you ain't telling me, Jesse. What th' hell is it?"

"Darlin', I got no idea..."

She was fast. He was just a little faster, but the result was the same - her repeater in his face, his six shooter aimed right between her eyes.

"Well now," she said, "ain't this just special."

"Just like old times," he answered.

"You gonna make yourself a little clearer? 'Cause you might get me, but you sure as hell ain't gonna get Bob."

Jesse looked over at Bob, and smiled. "Aw c'mon, Bob and me, we're old friends! He wouldn't do nothin' t'..."

Bob shot his hat off. One shot, right above the hair.

"Dammit, Bob! I liked that hat."

Bob shrugged, but his targeting never moved.

"Well, Jesse?" Ashe demanded. "How 'bout it?"

Jesse sighed. "Alright," he said, slowly pulling his six-shooter back and away from Ashe's head, and she slowly lowered her repeater in turn.

"I really do need the money," he lied, "but it ain't 'cause I quit Overwatch. I didn't. I'm still with 'em. Now don't worry, we ain't after you."

"Damn right you're not."

"We ain't. But we need big money, and we need it from somewhere can't be traced. Like this."

"Big money... big target?"

"Yeah."

"Who?"

He jabbed his thumb over at the picture of Satya Vaswani he'd added to the dartboard, right on top of his own.

"We're after her. And Vishkar."

Ashe glanced over at the woman - _I **knew** I recognised her from someplace_ \- and back to Jesse.

"Seven, eight mil isn't gonna get you far against someone like that."

"Doesn't need to. I got a lot of boxes to check off along the way. This is just the first."

"So you're not the only one out here doin' deals," she said.

"Nope. Just the first."

Ashe nodded. It made a little more sense, now. Still seemed to her like the hard way of going about it, but hell, who even knows how a bunch of idiot do-gooders like Overwatch are gonna work.

"All right," she said. "We got an appointment tomorrow, people. We're gonna have visitors. Let's get everything all cleaned up."

\-----

Jesse lay in his bunk, later, quiet, but thinking hard and thinking fast and getting nowhere either way.

 _Goddammit, I didn't want t'do it like this_ , he thought. _The bodyguard, that'll be the little monster she's made out of Lena. Got no trouble with that. I liked her, but after the way she took out Winston..._ He shook his head, no, kind of glad he hadn't been there to see it. _She's long past saving, she just needs to be put down. It's about saving the rest of the world, now. But..._

He rolled over, trying to think, trying to find another way to do this, wishing he had Genji to talk to, to cuddle up with, but then also to talk him out of what needed to be done, and he couldn't allow that to happen.

After all - it's why he'd left alone.

_Guess I always knew I'd have to pay for what we did back in the day_ , he thought. _The tab's finally come due. And it's not like the rest of this gang ain't done more than their fair share of mayhem. But it still ought t'be me takin' the brunt of it, not them._

_The funny part is this works better than my original plan_ , he thought, still monologuing inside, still trying to find a way out. _It's a better setup. Didn't think they'd want to risk an in-person hands-on inspection, but here they are, and well, that's mighty fine for me. But..._

He knew he'd never been suited to command positions, and he knew exactly why, and one of those reasons why felt a lot like how he felt right now.

That, and all the anger.

_Putting my own life on the line_ , he mused, _that's one thing. Puttin' other people's, particularly without them knowin' it... it just don't sit right. O'Deorain and her ilk got t'get what they deserve, but god damn, I wish there was some other way out of this._

He remained sure that there wasn't. Someone had to pull the trigger, and if it wasn't going to be anybody else, it would have to be him. Part of him was happy about that.

He stared up at the ceiling, spotted a spider secure in its web, and frowned, disliking the omen. _Yep_ , he thought, _you'll be there too. And we'll never even see you, will we? Not if you're gonna sting._

He put one hand behind his head, watching the spider stand ready.

_I wonder if you ever think about your old life as a ballet dancer. Everything was so much better, back then, before **Moira** , before **you** , before **London** , before all **this** , before..._

His shoulders sagged a bit on the sagging mattress.

_Christ, Gabriel. I miss you so much right now. I wish I could ask you for some advice right about now. You always had a plan, one way or another. You were a goddamn genius, a better strategist than Jack ever could be, and we almost had you back, fightin' the good fight the whole time, until that **bitch** went and..._

His stomach twisted, and he couldn't let himself keep thinking on it without breaking down, so he made himself stop, pushing it all back down, as hard as he could.

_Or... Gérard. He might not've been quite as much a genius as Gabe, but he was still a damned good tactician. Good in a tight spot, too, and they don't get much tighter than this._

A gnat triggered the web, and the spider lept forward, striking, instantly paralyzing its prey.

_Hell, Amélie, I even miss you, even with that creature the Irish witch stuffed into your body still around. Are you still hidden in there somewhere, watchin' everything fall apart?_ He closed his eyes and sighed. _For your sake, I hope not. God, what we've all become._

_After this is over_ , he thought, rolling onto his side, _I'm done with this life. Maybe I'll go turn myself in, somewhere they won't reward me - tho' there ain't too many places won't reward me for this once they know what all's been happening. Or if I can't find a place..._

_...if I can't find a place, maybe I'll become some kinda priest or somethin'. Repent my sins, over and over again, 'til there ain't nothin' left..._

He snorted at his own foolishness, even as part of his mind thought, _...or a monk. Hell, it worked for Genji..._

"Naw," he said, to himself, and to no one in particular, before realising he'd spoken aloud. 

_That... nah. I just don't get t'be so lucky. That just ain't my kinda life._

He rolled over again onto his back, and covered his face with his hat, blocking the remaining light. 

_I'm the kind of guy who has to do the job what needs doin'. That's who I am, like it or not. And that's all there is to it._

A deep breath, and he started to fall into sleep. 

_May as well just go ahead and get 'er done._


	4. Hurrah

Jesse had kept the briefcase - and all its contents - with him throughout, but now, it was time to hand it over, and some part of him really did not want to. He stood behind the bar at the hideout, having already poured himself a shot of bourbon at 11am in the morning, and nursed it, staring at the briefcase as the clock ticked down.

"You seem a mite bit hesitant about this, Jesse," Ashe said, Bob beside her.

Ashe and Jesse went back - 'way back. Back to the beginning, back since the farm, and even if they'd been on opposite sides of what the southwest laughably called 'the law' since McCree had joined up with Blackwatch, she still knew him well, and he was nervous. He kept a decent lid on it, but she could still tell.

"Don't like not bein' the one in charge of the goods," he grumbled.

"You're the one what needs us, Jesse, not the other way 'round. You said yourself, you can't be there."

"The fact I can't be don't make it any better," he said, clicking shut the heavy armoured briefcase, and shoving it across the bar. "Here."

"Why Jesse," Ashe said, handing the case to Bob. "Don't you trust me?"

"We got _one_ shot at this, Ashe," the cowboy snapped. " _Don't_ get cute, and _don't_ screw it up."

Ashe growled a little at the man she'd once thought of as a friend. "I _don't_ screw things _up_."

"I don't mean that way, I mean..." He spat onto the floor. "All right, fine, you want it out? I'll just say it. _Don't_ you go thinkin' you can cut me out of this. Don't go makin' some separate deal." He made a fingergun motion, a _pow_ , at Ashe. "And don't think I won't be watchin' just 'cause I ain't at the party."

"And they'll have a sniper too, yeah, yeah." She shook her head. "I can't wait 'til this is over and you're the hell back out of my life, Jess. It sure ain't been a pleasure."

"Yeah, well," he said, leaning back against the mixing bench behind the bar. He pulled out a cigar, cut off the tip, and lit it, trying to calm his nerves. "Ain't no gang in the world does better with two leaders. We're better off as far apart as possible, I figure."

"Got that right."

"So we just got to put up with each other just a few more days and I'll be out of here for good. And we'll all be a hell of a lot richer for it."

"That's the only reason I ain't kicked you out already," Ashe replied with a nod. "'Bout that time, ain't it, Bob?"

Bob nodded, silently.

"Well then. Let's get goin'."

\-----

Moira and Lena pulled up to the small roadside diner, country music playing over the outdoor speakers, a couple of tables outside, unused.

"Widowmaker, Oilliphéist, Tracer here. You're in position?"

"Widowmaker here. Affirmative," replied Widowmaker, over comms. "I have located six hidden figures, at various points with line of sight to the diner. No targets of specific interest."

"Oilliphéist here. I have the same count. None of 'em McCree."

"As expected, more or less," Moira muttered. "We don't have the money, and they know that. This is defensive, in case _we_ were to try something."

"Agreed," Tracer said, shutting down the roadster's motor, locking it down. "We're a go?"

Moira didn't so much answer as unlock her door and step out of the vehicle, scanning the cliff walls, bright in the midday sun. "It is a beautiful vista," she admitted. "I should visit as well, sometime."

Lena teleported out of the car, beside her mother, eyes darting from spot to spot. "Yeah. I can see why Em likes it so much."

The two women walked to and through the front doors, glanced briefly at the "Please seat yourselves" sign, and sat in a booth next to the windows with the best view, which was, they both agreed, spectacular.

A waitress came over almost immediately. Lena knew better than to order the tea, requesting a lemonade and piece of pie with ice cream. Moira ordered coffee, regretting it as soon as it was placed in front of her.

"Pie's not so bad," Lena said. "Not sure what this lemonade is, though. It's not even carbonated!"

"Pity. Ah," she said, "I believe I've just spotted our host."

"'Bout time."

Ashe sauntered over, Bob at her side, carrying a rather substantial briefcase. "Well, I see y'all decided to try the local fare. Pie's usually pretty good, but sorry about the coffee. Shoulda warned ya. Anyway, hello - I'm Ashe. You're Dr. O'Deorain, obviously. This here your bodyguard?"

"Yes, this is Lena, my bodyguard - and daughter."

"This here's Bob. He's the quiet type, but he don't mean nothin' rude by it."

Bob reached up and tipped his hat in a very old-fashioned way. Lena grinned, and saluted him back.

"Yes, well," Moira said, gesturing towards Bob's briefcase. "I take it you have the items with you?"

"Don't you worry none, Bob's not gonna let anything out of his sight. Are y'all ready t'go?"

"Honestly, I don't see why we can't inspect the items here," Moira replied. "You do, after all, have them."

"All due respect ma'am, we're gonna stick to the plan," Ashe replied. Bob nodded once, in silent agreement. "We'll just ride over to our secured location, then you can get all the lookin' you want."

"Afraid we'd try to take it from a big strong guy like you, Bob? We're not thieves, you know," Lena chirped.

Ashe's bodyguard rocked his head back and forth a little, just enough to show a kind of restrained amusement, like a chuckle, and Lena grinned. "I like you, Bob. You seem all right. You ever -"

"Yeah, well, we _are_ thieves," Ashe interrupted, less amused. "Amongst other things. And the' old saying aside, there ain't much honour among thieves, so we're stickin' to the plan."

"Well, then," Moira said, putting down the rather dreadful coffee. "Let's not waste any more time. Lead on."

Ashe nodded, threw some money down on the table - "it's on me," she told the waiter - and led the two Oasian visitors out of the shop.

_I do not like these two_ , Ashe thought. _Particularly not that Lena._

It wasn't that she wasn't friendly. She was. Maybe a little too friendly - but that wasn't it. It wasn't the weird, smooth way she moved, it wasn't the copper eyes, and it certainly wasn't that Ashe recognised a killer when she saw one. She saw _that_ in the mirror every morning, and was proud of it.

Ashe just couldn't put her finger on it as the little group made their way outside, but something about her just smelled like the wrong kind of trouble.

"I presume you'll want t'follow me in your little roadster," she said as she and Bob stepped over to her motorcycle.

"How far will we be travelling?" Moira asked, stepping next to their roadster.

"Not far. Do you want me to draw you a map?"

"No," Moira replied, with a tight smile. "I'm sure we can keep up."

Lena, for her part, didn't mind Ashe all that much - but something kept bothering her, as she teleported around, scouting positions, checking for possible ambush. "Feels wrong," she muttered to Moria as she settled into the passenger side. "Dunno why. Just feels wrong."

"I don't feel it yourself, but I know to trust your instincts," Moira said. "Everyone stay ready."

They drove behind Ashe and Bob in their odd motorcycle, keeping their speed down to help Oilliphéist and Widowmaker keep pace far above the cliffsides, chaining and ghosting as needed.

Ashe hadn't lied. They followed her into a short tunnel, then a few miles down the road, past a few curves, then off the paved highway, down a dirt road that became a dirt path, and a stop in front of a small cement and adobe structure built onto the side of the cliff.

"Widowmaker, Oilliphéist - Tracer here, report?"

"Oilliphéist here. I count another six targets already in position, same general configuration as before - and nobody we know. Wids?"

"Widowmaker here. Count verified. All ordinaries. No special targets."

"He's here somewhere," Lena said. "I can feel 'im. Mum, I don't like this."

"Stay sharp, everyone. Particularly you, Oilliphéist," Moira said on comms. "In fact - Oilliphéist, move in a bit. I want you in _one_ ghosting range."

"Oilliphéist confirming. I see a spot." Over comms, the sound of ghost movements, one, two, in rapid succession. "Oilliphéist in position."

Moira nodded. "We're moving out," she said, waiting as Lena teleported out of the car and opened the door from the outside for her.

"Y'all didn't do that last time," Ashe said. "Relax, you're customers and guests. We ain't gonna bushwhack you. Particularly not with this kind of money on the line."

Moira allowed herself a small but audible chuckle. "My daughter is indeed rather protective. I'm sure you understand." _These are just ordinary criminals_ , she thought. _But Lena is rarely wrong._

Ashe and Bob stepped over to the small building. "If you're wonderin'," Ashe gestured towards the flat-roofed structure, "this is one of the places we keep available for just such business meetings as this. Don't look like much from here, but it's secure. And a lot nicer on the inside."

She opened the door, and gestured. "Given how worried y'all are, I'll ask - you want us t'go in first, or you?"

Lena teleported over, into the doorway. It was, as Ashe had promised, nicer inside. Larger than she'd expected too, and cool, with a sizable boardroom table made of some reddish wood she didn't recognise, three leather-cushioned pine chairs on each side, and a small service bar on the back wall. "Huh," she said. "Air conditioned. Surprised. Where's the back door lead?"

"It's the way we usually come in," Ashe said, slipping by the teleporter and into the room. "But y'all wanted to meet somewhere else first. It's also our way out, should things go cockeyed. There's also a bathroom, in case anybody needs some private time. Y'all want a blueprint or are we gonna get to business?"

Lena teleported over to the back door. Bolted, from her side, so she unlocked it, and looked down the long lit hallway. "Where's it go?"

"Other side of the bluff. Bathroom'll be unlocked if'n you want to give it a looksee."

"I will." She opened the door, finding only what had been described.

"All right then," she said, shaking her head. _I'm **not** being paranoid. Jesse's got t'be here. No way this is a coincidence. Maybe he's waiting for us to leave. Maybe he's waiting for later, for the buy._ "Good enough."

She walked back out to the negotiations room, and nodded once at Moira, who stepped in, and walked up to the table.

"Well," Moira asked, as Bob and Ashe walked to the other side of the table, sitting down in front of her, as Lena checked behind the bar one more time, opening the refrigerator, closing it. "If we're all done with the preliminaries, might we finally examine the goods for sale?"

Ashe nodded. Bob lifted the briefcase onto the boardroom table and released the lock, as Lena teleported next to her mother.

It seemed to Moira, later, that she remembered it almost as though Lena teleported twice - once beside her, then one again, remaining in place. But in the moment, she was too distracted by Lena's scream of rage, as her daughter teleported yet again, onto the briefcase, one pulse pistol between Ashe's eyes, another at Bob's CPU.

"Lena! What...?!"

"GET OUT, MUM. GET OUT RIGHT THE FUCK NOW."

Moira wasted no time ghosting away and into the roadster as Oilliphéist and Widowmaker began taking out their opposite numbers in Deadlock, making quick work of the six sighted targets. Ashe shouted and jumped back, only to be followed by Tracer, teleporting, aim never wavering.

"The. only. reason. you're. still. alive. now. is. because. he. killed. you. too." Lena snarled. "You got that?"

She glanced up to Bob, his aim trained on her, eyes violently red, her eyes as violently copper in return.

"And you. He got you both. You understand me, Bob? He got you and her both."

Bob squinted, but didn't lower his weapon.

"When you find him, remember that. And no matter what... _don't_ open that briefcase."

She teleported away, and into the roadster, which Moira spun at best speed around the road, down the dirt path, racing back towards the main road.

"Teleport us home," Lena said, voice flat. "Get us out of here. All hell's about to break loose in Russia and we need t'get home. And I'm, I'm, I'm gonna need some help. Maybe not this second. There's no time. But I'm gonna need to some, some help."

"Oilliphéist, Widowmaker, this is Moira. Come to me at once, this is an emergency evacuation." She pulled the vehicle over and looked to her daughter, who had started shaking in place, reaching out, taking her hand. "Lena, _what happened?!_ "

"He got you, mum. Both of them, too. But he got _you_." She shuddered, and then sobbed, suddenly, as she felt her mother's touch, flashing to the sight of her skull and face burned, spread across the back of the conference room wall, lost even to their technologies.

_Not dead. Not dead. Not anymore. We fixed it. **I** fixed it_, she thought, struggling to regain control.

"But..." She chuckled raggedly. "But he missed _me_. And then I sure as hell made sure I didn't miss _him._ "

"Lena, please! What are you talking about? Who?!"

"Jesse," she managed, as her wives ghosted up to the roadster, and Moira triggered the emergency teleport. "I was right. It was Jesse. He had a plan. And it worked. Until I undid it, it _worked_."

\-----

"Bob?" Ashe asked, slowly standing up, dusting herself off. "What th' hell just happened?"

Bob stepped over to the briefcase, and put one hand on the lid which had slowly started to rise, pressing it carefully back down.

Ashe nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. That sounds like a right good idea. Let me get somethin' heavy to put on it."

She walked behind the bar, and pulled out the biggest bottle of tequila they had. "Think this'll do?"

Bob looked, and nodded, and slowly slid his hand off the briefcase as Ashe positioned the bottle in its place, and the two of them walked to the door, to discover the bodies of the six perimetre guards stacked neatly in a pile.

"Well," she said. "Damn shame. _Damn_ shame."

"Yep," Bob replied, low, with a nod.

"Don't get all mushy on me now, Bob. We got a lot of work to do. Startin' with finding out who's still alive t'help with the burials."

She walked over to her motorcycle, pulled a blanket from the cargo bag, and covered the stacked bodies of her gang.

"And that list sure as hell better not include Jesse McCree."

\-----

Oasis shimmered into reality as the emergency teleport brought Lena, Moira, Emily, and Danielle safely back into Concordat territory.

"Go," Lena told Moira. "There should be a few minutes left, still. Hana's, Hana's, Hana's probably talking to her right now. But scramble everything. We'll be needed, mum. Minutes. Maybe a couple of hours. But soon."

"Are you sure, a leanbh?" She took Lena's hands in her own. "Are you _sure?_ "

"Yeh." Lena's eyes closed halfway, as she was calmed by her mother's touch. "I'm," she swallowed, "I'm screwed up, but I'm... I... I can do this. Go get everything ready. Trust me mum - it's time."

Moira brushed her fingertips across her daughter's chin, nodded once, and vanished.

"Lena," Danielle said, "you will tell us both everything."

Oilliphéist agreed. "Right now."

Lena held up one finger. "I'm not sure about somethin' yet."

She pulled a small comms device out of her pocket and enabled it. _Signal detected_ , she thought. _Good._

"Is that from McCree?" Emily asked.

Lena nodded, then flipped the talk switch on, and back off, three times, paused for three seconds, then did it again. Then she waited, as her wives watched.

"Jesse?" she heard Jack Morrison ask, and her scowl grew fierce with rage. "Jesse, are you back in range?"

She didn't answer.

"Talk to me, McCree. I know you're there. I need to bring you back in, right now. I mean it."

She pushed the talk button. "Yeah, Jack," she said. "Funny thing about that. I don't think he'll be talking much - much less comin' back in. Not for a long time."

"...Lena?"

She heard the shock in his voice.

" _Tracer_ ," she snapped, "out."

**Author's Note:**

> This is the thirty-fifth instalment of _Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflict_. To follow the story, [subscribe to the series via this link](https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024), rather than to the individual works.


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